


The future's not ours to see

by galexiesx



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, doctor!oh, slight Sehun/others, slight past Kim Jongin | Kai/Byun Baekhyun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-05-12 21:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19237075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galexiesx/pseuds/galexiesx
Summary: Jongin likes to seek entertainment in lonely strangers' arms. But how do they say it? What goes around comes back around.





	The future's not ours to see

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this for a prompter but somewhere in the middle I fell in love with the characters and kinda wrote this for myself :D
> 
> I would LOVE to thank the amazing mods, who were always willing to help and accomodate me as well as possible and make my experience super pleasant! 
> 
> Last, but definitely not least thank you, @fairyeol, my beta, my guide, my best friend! <3 I love you

> The future isn't ours to see  
>  It is a green hollow where a stream gurgles,  
>  Crazily catching silver rags of itself on the grasses;  
>  Where the sun shines from the proud mountain:  
>  It is a little valley bubbling over with light.
> 
> A young soldier, open-mouthed, bare-headed,  
>  With the nape of his neck bathed in cool blue cresses,  
>  Sleeps; he is stretched out on the grass, under the sky,  
>  Pale on his green bed where the light falls like rain.
> 
> His feet in the yellow flags, he lies sleeping. Smiling as  
>  A sick child might smile, he is having a nap:  
>  Cradle him warmly, Nature: he is cold.
> 
> No odour makes his nostrils quiver;  
>  He sleeps in the sun, his hand on his breast  
>  At peace. There are two red holes in his right side.
> 
> -Jean Arthur Rimbaud, Sleeper in the valley, October 1870

 

 

  
Summer that year is long. Bright. Sunny. Except for when it's not.

Then it's humid. It's so humid that it feels like there is no oxygen in the air, like you might just suffocate any second.

Summer that year is relentless. Lulling you into the deceptive feeling of safety, which doesn't last. It never lasts. Light breeze and moderate temperature are a sweet dream when the heat wave hits.

It's a vicious cycle, one that feels like it might never come to an end.

It's a rainy Monday afternoon, a busy one in the local hospital, when a slim woman in her late twenties brings him. Leaning against her small frame with an arm around her frail shoulders. It's a miracle she's able to support his weight. But then again, he's just a shell of what once used to be a man.

And then her arms give out and she lets out such an ugly sound. Something between a scream and a sob, ripping out of her throat way too loudly. The man comes collapsing onto the ground, landing quietly, light as a feather. It's almost invisible to the eye of an observer how hard he hits the back of his head in the process.

The E.R. is full to the brim, just like any other day that summer. Nurses are running around with medical equipment and i.v.s, hair plastered to their foreheads with sweat. The A.C. is on the highest setting but it doesn't really feel like much. Intelectually, they know it should be cooler because of the rain. But hardly anyone gets fooled. It's just as hot as when the sun is out.

It's a rainy Monday afternoon when a crowd of people huddles around the pair in panic. It's mostly just family members of patients, children moping around in the waiting room. People that don't have much clue when it comes to saving a human life.

The woman starts weeping, a look of horror and dread on her soft features as she craddles the boy's face in her palms.

She's been calling for help ever since they appeared but it's only now that an actual doctor takes them in notice. He pushes through the group of bystanders and then he's shouting to a passing nurse about a gurney and medication and all kinds of tests he needs _now_.

"Talk to me about him," he says, noticeably lowering his voice when he starts adressing the woman.

"I- I found him on the ground in his apartment. He was there for a couple of days and I haven't heard back from him. He must have passed out-"

"Any family history of disorder?" He interrupts her, flashing a light pen infront of the male's eyes. "Pupils reactive."

She shakes her head. And then she gets a little fidgety. The doctor looks up, brows furrowed, "What is it?"

"My brother- He- He's been diagnosed with..."

She doesn't get to finish. For her brother then goes into a coughing fit, body convulsing around nothing and then he proceeds to roll onto his side, weakly scrambling onto his knees. Alas, completely uselessly. Considering the poor state his body is in, it's quite a miracle it's still functioning.

It's a rainy Monday afternoon when a young man's back arches in the middle of the E.R. He starts dry-heaving and the otherwise hectic room goes almost quiet.

And then he's coughing, blood and orange petals harshly spilling out of his lips. His mouth is blooming like a flower field in the middle of spring.

... _with Hanahaki disease_ , the woman wants to say but it dies on her tongue.

Everybody's seen it for themselves, anyway.

 

* * *

 

 

Sehun is annoyed.

The rain is drumming on the window so loudly he can't _hear_  himself think. It's such an annoying noise. Sehun hates it, genuinely. There is a pile of files on the coffee table in front of him. He's been avoiding them for a while now.

The thing is, Sehun shouldn't even be here. He should be on his way to his brother's wedding, speeding 100mph on a highway in his beat up Mustang convertible. He should be drinking scotch with ice and he should be hooking up with all the pretty sweethearts he's not gonna encounter ever again.

He should be doing many things but he's not. He's covering Seulgi's shift because she's irresponsible and she parties more than she breathes and she got flu and Sehun is now stuck here. In the residents' lounge. Still wearing his blue scrubs, with blood smeared all over the front. The courtesy of some dumbass intern who can't even hold a clamp properly.

Sehun is annoyed. Annoyed and bored.

God, he should change. He should take a shower and he should go home, he should sleep. Too bad, he's sipping on his third cup of coffee.

"Female, forty-three years old. In urgent need of an appendectomy. Damn, that sounds boring even to me," Junmyun sighs to himself. His voice is so monotone from where he's sitting crosslegged on the couch on the other side of the room. One hand in a tupperware container halfway-filled with ginger cookies and the other flipping through files that are haphazardly scattered all over his lap.

"Hmm, this is interesting. How about a craniotomy? Hwang would shit his pants if I pulled that off."

That is bullshit. Hwang only ever has residents on his surgeries so that he could talk about himself in front of someone who actually has to pretend to be interested for around three to seven hours, depending on the length of the procedure.

Sehun pulls out his phone from his white coat pocket. His social media accounts are getting flooded with pictures of his friends and family genuinely enjoying themselves. Bridesmaids in matching dresses, sipping on overpriced champagne, the newlyweds posing at the wedding reception and all. He scrolls down until they're not there.

"Nah, that's boring. I've done it solo last week."

At that, Junmyun's voice hitches, irritation getting the best of him. "Oh sorry almighty Doctor Oh. I didn't realize you were a fucking attending already."

He isn't. In fact, he's in the same year of residency as Junmyun, bitterly sitting across the room. It's just that Sehun is significantly better than his mediocre co-workers. What can you do.

Sehun has scrolled all the way down to yesterday's posts. He locks his phone, throwing his head back. His eyes are shut closed. He would rather crawl out of his skin than endure _this_  right now.

There is a lot of noise coming from the hall, a loud smack against the door and laughter. So terribly loud. Worse than the thunderstorm outside. And there is no escaping it either as Kyungsoo and Sunmi make their way inside, the volume of their voices gradually rising with every passing step.

"What's up?" Junmyun asks, moving his glasses a little higher on his nose. The nth closed folder that didn't please him lies by his side on the couch.

Kyungsoo laughs, wholeheartedly, like Junmyun told him a joke he hasn't heard before. He takes his time answering, too. Enough time to walk over to a minifridge and grab an almost full bottle of water. He even takes a sip before finally looking over Junmyun's way.

"Oh you haven't heard yet? Someone with hanahaki disease showed up. Made a whole ass scene in the waiting room. Threw up rose petals and all. Now the entire first floor smells like a fucking flower garden."

The corners of Sehun's mouth twitch, eyes still closed.

What an end to his misery. He's just found something worth his time.

 

* * *

 

  
123, the plate reads.

Sehun always hated talking to patients' family members. Whether it was just a small talk or an update with any news relevant to their relative's health status. It's boring. Useless. It's not where the magic happens. And it is, by no means, a place for someone as talented as Oh Sehun.

He hates it still. Up to this day.

123, the plate reads. Sehun's been staring at it for a while now from where he's leisurely spinning on a beige leather chair at the nurses station. He's just killing time, fingers closing around the armrest.

The hall is quiet. Which is surprising. People love to talk, to run their little mouths about matters that are none of their concern. Even more so when it comes to the misfortune of others.

And so the only person who hasn't heard about the infamous spectacle in the waiting room earlier that day is probably Chief Rhee, who's getting tan on the other side of the globe. Give him a day or two, the word will find him.

Hence, Sehun expected to see a bunch of curious, bloodthirsty interns wandering around in hopes of getting their claws on something they only ever saw in textbooks.

There is none.

The hall is quiet. The room isn't.

Sehun does notice. A hum of voices inside the room. Or maybe just one, undeniably that of a female. It hitches, too, rises with emotion. Choking up a little at the ends of her sentences. The high tone of her voice makes Sehun's blood run cold.

Sehun always hated talking to patients' family members. Simply because they're too emotional. Outright hysterical. And he's spent too many years in med school, working through blood, sweat and tears to hold a stranger in his arms just because they're too irrational to cope with some of the most natural things in the world.

And so he waits. Just to give them a little time to collect themselves. To save them as much embarrassment as possible, to save himself the trouble, too.

It's pretty obvious that they are in the middle of a conversation and maybe one too many unwanted ears heard about how the woman's four-year-old found her uncle _lying unconscious on the floor, in blood and flower petals, completely unresponsive. Do you want her to remember you like that?_

It gets old. Eventually. After Sehun's poked through all of the drawers and paged an intern to get him iced coffee. After he drank it, too. It's still better than listening to Junmyun's crap.

The woman storms out. Shutting the door behind herself with so much force that one of the olderly nurses furrows his brows at her. She barely notices, too busy shaking and all. Her hair that was once pulled back in a high neat ponytail is now all over the place, the front strands shielding her eyes.

She's crying, though. Sehun _knows_. He's seen this scenario play out one too many times by now. The way loved ones always break down the moment they think they're out of sight.

123, the plate reads. The young doctor knocks on the door.

On the other side, it's quiet.

 

* * *

 

 

Sehun doesn't go home. Which is not unusual. He's got an early morning shift and he's kinda swamped in Seulgi's mess as he was ignoring it the whole day. Post-ops and paperwork. Checking on a heart transplant from a couple of days ago. Boring stuff.

Except for when it's not.

It's a little after midnight when a wide-eyed, pink-cheeked intern blows him behind a fully-stocked shelf in a storage room. The wooden edge of the cabinet presses into his back almost painfully when he leans against it and anyone who might walk in could automatically see them but it's still an averagely entertaining way to pass time.

She's not on his service. Never has been, in fact. She must be new around here, when Sehun thinks about that.

Nevermind. At the end of the day, Sehun doesn't even recall what her name was.

 

* * *

 

 

The watch on Sehun's wrist clocks half past four in the morning when he stops in front of a vending machine to pick up a protein bar.

His stomach has been churning ever since his intern-related-escapades. And normally he would grab something to eat much ealier but the cafeteria is closed and the devil's spawn, a.k.a Chief Resident Do Kyungsoo has been known to have sticky fingers. Particularly so when it comes to other people's snacks.

Sehun's come to a point in his life where he has to have his food systematically strewn across on-call rooms and random storage rooms. And sometimes it just so happens that his hiding spots are found, so to speak, fruitless.

The watch on Sehun's wrist clocks four thirty five in the morning when he thinks he's going completely mad. Either with lack of sleep or maybe some other unhealthy patterns in his life.

He's all alone in the hallway, he's certain. Yet, he could swear he can hear steps; quiet, albeit audible in the silence of the night. It's a strange noise. Clumsy, like someone who's not too experienced in walking. Light, too, not a way adults usually go around.

Sehun looks up from where he's seated on an abandoned gurney that's probably seen better times, fixed by the wall. He can't see anything at first and then, suddenly he can see very clearly.

A tiny girl in an oversized sweather with her jet black hair skillfully pulled into two frenchbraids. She's peeking from around corner, eyes big and all. God, she can't be older than five. Sehun springs to his feet, heart in his throat. He shoves the candy wrapper into his coat and cautiously squats down so they're at the same eye-level.

She shouldn't be here; the peds ward is on the completely opposite side of the building. And he really thought that staff paid enough attention not to have kids running around at night.

Except, that she's not wearing scrubs nor a gown. She's wearing an oversized sweather with a big tiger in the front and lightwashed jeans. She also looks like she's in a lot of rush.

Sehun doesn't dare talking to her. He doesn't need to, anyway. She's bright enough, even without his help.

"Are you a doctor?" she asks. Her voice is a little deeper than he expected.

"Yeah, yeah I am."

She comes closer, completely closing the distance between them as she reaches for his hand, much bigger in her miniature yet breath-takingly strong grip.

"You have to help me then," she says. "I'm Hyegi, by the way."

Sehun has no idea what he just signed up for.

 

* * *

 

Flowers have a funny scent. A strong one, too. Very specific.

To Sehun it's more of a stink as he hasn't been too fond of them in recent times. The smell brings up things he can't even properly pinpoint and he doesn't like to be taken by surprise. Who knows why.

Kyungsoo was right, after all. The entire floor does smell like a flower garden. They don't teach you this in med school, as it is rarely ever even discussed, but flowers covered in blood, those blooming inside a heartbroken person's chest smell a little odd. Peculiar. Rusty.

And Sehun has to fight an urge to laugh when the vivid scent hits his nostrils. He's been chasing his dream case the whole day, uselessly and so it turns out that a child has to bring him to it, at last.

The lights are dim from where Sehun scans the room. The bed is empty. Clean. The floor isn't. Bloody trail laced with flower petals leads straight to the bathroom.

Oh, but the scenario that unfolds in front of him isn't still. It's not quiet. It's not like something out of a picture. And while the halls smell like a flower shop, from much closer Sehun's welcome with gagging noises echoing in the tiled bathroom and the iron smell of blood.

He leans down, letting go of Hyegi's tiny hand. "I need to check on him now. Do you think you could bring me a gauze, Hyegi? There is a room, by the end of the hall. Just knock and someone will help you find it, okay? If anyone asks, tell them that Sehun is already here, yeah?"

Hyegi is quiet for a little bit but she doesn't look down. She's staring at Sehun with so much intensity it makes _him_  want to look down. And for a minute it seems that the girl is going to be persistent about staying but then she nods.

To be truthful, Sehun doesn't need gauze. In fact, he could even make do without a back-up. He's done more on his own in the past but he doesn't neccesarily want a child to watch her loved one choke on blood and flower petals. Little does she know that where he sent her, she's not going to find medical supplies. She might find a bunch of bored residents gossiping, though, and that's enough.

The inside of room 123, however, looks even more gruesome than Sehun anticipated. It appears more likely that someone's throat was sliced open in the middle of here rather than someone with hanahaki disease has gone into a fit.

The gagging abated, eventually . Much like the storm outside. Though, Sehun is thankful for the soft noise of rain dropping down the window sill as the silence that otherwise stretches feels stiff. Strained. Like the last moment before a jump-scare.

It feels like such a  _deja vú_  as he closes his fingers into a fist and knocks on the bathroom door.

This time, the door opens.

 

* * *

 

 

There has always been such an unspoken stigma around hanahaki disease. Sehun has seen it from a close proximity and from far, too, through the years of his medical practice. The disease comes with shame. And suddenly one too many random onlookers care enough to see a flower show.

Kim Jongin, though, wears it like a crown.

Like a token of glory.

Chin raised, eyes fixed firmly ahead. Something akin to a smile on his lips.

It's such a pretty illusion. One that falls apart almost effortlessly when Sehun enters the room. Shattering like glass when it hits the floor.

And once you look past the facade it's quite difficult to see anything else. Sehun finds it incredibly fascinating, still.

Kim Jongin must have seen better days, that's for sure. In fact, from closer inspection it's quite a curiosity that he's still breathing. He looks like he should have been dead for a couple of days by now.

His back is against the cool tiles, elbows on his knees, hands hanging loosely between his spread ankles where he's sitting on the floor. Covered in blood, almost from head to toe, crimson red smeared all over his hospital gown. Blood. And sweat. And flowers.

The man throws his head back, a soft hiss escaping at the movement. Eyes shut closed. Sehun can see his Adam's apple bob when he swallows. He swallows thickly, too. Features contracting with soreness. He lets out a silent sound as if he wanted to clear his throat but changed his mind in the process because he knew better.

Sehun imagines it's rather painful to even breathe, let alone swallow or speak.

Laboriously, Kim Jongin chuckles. Sharply. With bloody teeth and cracked lips. "Did I wake you, Doctor?" His voice is so harsh, it's agonizing to even listen to it.

Sehun is on edge. It's an intriguing thing to watch. Catiously, he crosses his arms on his chest. "Not really. But if you're wondering how I got here, that's a funny story. Your tiny companion asked me to look after you, actually.

The emotion that plays out on Jongin's face is fairly entertaining. The smile is gone for good, now.

It's the first time he properly _looks_ Sehun's way. He's so pale it makes his under eye circles even darker. Or maybe they're so dark it makes his face look paler. Who knows. "Is- is Hyegi okay?"

"Safe and sound. In the Resident's lounge. She's taken care of." Sehun squirms where he's standing in the doorway. It's getting awkward. He offers the man a hand. "Wanna get up?"

"You bet, Doc."

 

* * *

 

 

Blue dots and white creases.

Sehun stands idly, by the window. The skies are lighter now, too, soft goldens and oranges rising at the horizon with the pledge of a new day. He completely omitted sleep. Again. What a shame.

Blue dots and white creases.

Sehun can't see the pattern but he can hear the rustle of fabric behind him. The padding of bare feet against the linoleum flooring. He waits until it dies down, only the machines beeping steadily before he finally turns.

"Do you mind giving me a hand, Doc?"

Kim Jongin's voice is raw. Although, laced with amusement. Mirth. It's easier to face others rather than ourselves, huh. And Sehun finds it quite entertaining, watching the show.

And so on the young doctor does come forth and he does help him with the attire. And the young doctor stares at the contrast of color between the gown and the sunkissed skin as he tightens the strings on Jongin's back.

"You must be pretty dehydrated. You need a dextrose solution. And I'll have the nurse make you a tea to calm your throat after the rounds." The doctor moves closer, seated on an office stool, pulling on a fresh pair of pristine medical gloves.

He's the target of a disarming smile. One Sehun might have seen before, or maybe not. His eyes drop to the patient's lips. They're clean now. Still cracked. Albeit pretty.

But something else washes over Jongin's face, brows furrowed, eyes persistently watching Sehun's every step and then he's laughing. Genuine. Real.

 _That_ , Sehun's heard in the past for sure.

He ties the turniquet a couple of inches above the dorsum of the patient's hand.

"I know you," Jongin whispers. Eyes sparkling with guffaw. "Oh my god, what are the fucking odds?"

As it goes, Kim Jongin is typically too busy paying attention to the boys he brings over to help him through a lonely night to notice anyone else. And it's a rarity to meet him at any time during the day other than after sunset. But Kim Jongin has many surprises up his sleeves. And Sehun hasn't seen most of them, anyways.

At the lack of emotion on Sehun's side, Jongin carefully clears his throat, wincing with the act. He sits up, straighter. Ignoring the cool alcohol pad Sehun rubs on the back of his hand. "I mean I didn't know you were a doctor. You always looked like you did something fancy but I had no- hey, that hurts!"

Sehun remains silent, fully focused on the needle puncturing through Jongin's skin. And if the corners of his mouth twitch, it's nobody's bussiness.

"They already did the whole thing with the cannula."

"They sure did. But you can't neccessarily use it again once you rip it out," Sehun explains, eyes trailing down the bruising on Jongin's hand. "And I imagine you were in quite a hurry." He hangs the unit on the stand.

Jongin swallows. "Anyway, I'm apartment #606. Aren't you like directly below me or something?" Oh yeah, Satan's neighbour.

Sehun disposes of the dirty gloves, cleaning the wrappers and medical equipment. Then he finally looks his way. Oh, but Jongin is already glaring at him. "Are you seriously not going to talk to me?"

Kim Jongin is impatient. Restless. And obviously very unhappy with the lack of attention directed towards him. He's like a child denied of candy. It makes Sehun want to laugh.

And it does, a little, when he sits down on the fancier kind of chair with armrests and cushions and everything. "So, Kim Jongin, you wanna talk? Then tell me about the sweetheart that got your this fucked up."

It's amusing how annoyed he gets. Snorting and rolling his eyes and all. "What would you know?" The good spirits are gone. And the sarcastic smile seems to have taken their place instead.

"Oh, sore subject, perhaps? Is it one of the pretty boys you can't keep quiet for at night? Paper thin walls, I must admit." Sehun shrugs.

Jongin's face is smug. Like a kitten that's gotten its cream. "Of course you remember me."

"Very hard to forget."

And Jongin, for all one knows, might have another presumptuous remark ready but the door opens. And it reveals Do Kyungsoo, more bothered than ever, leading Hyegi inside. He looks like he just woke up, scrubs all wrinkly and the glasses on his nose a little askew.

Hyegi runs straight to the bed, climbing hastily onto the top of it. She looks up, watching Jongin closely, like he hung the moon. The way children watch their favourite adults with adoration and love and all. She seems even more awake now. There is no way she's getting any sleep in the remaining hours of the night.

And Sehun, too, lies awake when his back finally hits the mattress in the on-call room. He's staring at the ceiling for so long he's starting to see things that aren't there.

He lies awake until his alarm goes off.

 

* * *

 

 

Oh Sehun comes back to see Kim Jongin three more times that week.

On Tuesday morning he just wants to check. To make sure that Jongin is stable after last night's misadventures. And that's not the easiest quest either as it isn't Sehun's case and prying _anything_  from Do Kyungsoo's dirty little claws has never been pleasant nor simple, even more so when it's a diagnosis as fascinating as Jongin's. But that's not abnormal since Kyungsoo didn't get the title of chief resident for being nice. He got it for being an unpleasant piece of dick and Sehun can't help but feel a little victorious when he finally appears at the doorway of the room that he's been getting so awfully familiar with these past few days.

As it goes, Jongin didn't bother sharing the events of last night with his sister. And neither did Hyegi by the looks of it. They do, however, seem to be having a _somewhat_  calm conversation. The adults, at least. Hyegi is sprawled on the bed, eyes closed, Jongin's fingers playing with her hair.

"She's a stray, Jongin. And if I came an hour later she would have eaten your face, don't be naive."

Jongin sighs, offended, rolling his eyes. "First of all, they check whether you're breathing or not before they try anything. And second of all, Lolita would never eat me, she loves me dearly."

"Yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night, idiot."

"Plus I supported her through the gay episode she had with Chanyeol's cat. We're basically soulmates," Jongin shrugs.

It's an interesting debate to watch. Maybe. If Sehun had nothing better to do. But he's here to save lifes, not to chatter about felines or to make friends, for that matter. And he found himself regarding the patient a little more interesting when he's choking on flowers rather than when he's engaging in small talk.

Sehun knocks on the wooden doorframe.

"Sorry to interrupt. I'm here to check your vitals," he clears his throat. "I can come back later, though."

Jongin stiffens on the bed a little, body tensing when Sehun enters the room. The smug grin is gone. He really thinks Sehun's gonna rat him out, huh.

Afraid or not, he holds Sehun's gaze. Adamantly so. It's just a couple of second before Sehun has to look away, look at Jongin' sister as she opens her mouth. Sehun knows that, intelectually. Nevertheless, staring in Kim Jongin's eyes for what feels like eternity is a quite an out of body experience.

"Oh come in, Doctor," she says, rising from the padded chair. "Good you are here. I actually have some questions about the surgery."

_The surgery._

There we go.

Sehun's eyes flick from the woman to Jongin again, lying idly on the bed. The hand in Hyegi's hair stopped moving some moments ago. He nods, more to himself than anyone else, "As you might know, there is a possibility of a surgical removal of the infection in case you are interested."

"We are not," Jongin says. The under eye circles stand out a little more, now. In the daylight. Sehun wonders, for a minute, whether he slept at all. Because Sehun hasn't.

"Jongin! Excuse me, Doctor- I-"

Jongin, however, is not looking at her. He's looking at Sehun, chin raised, breathing a little ragged as he doesn't let her finish, "Can you check my vitals, now? I'd like to get it done and over with. I have some things to do."

The tone of his voice makes the hair on the back of Sehun's neck stand up.

Sehun checks his vitals. He has things to do as well.

 

* * *

 

 

On Thursday night, however, it's an unlucky coincidence and Sehun feels a sense of _deja vú_  when the hallways shake and echo with the sound of shouting. Sehun is after an eight hour long open heart surgery and in an urgent need of a hot shower and good night's sleep, just ready to mind his own business. But something in Jongin's replies or maybe the lack thereof makes him stop dead in his tracks and maybe not hurry all that much when he passes by Jongin's room.

Thursday is chaotic.

Messy.

On Thursday night Jongin has a visitor.

One that hasn't been there yet.

Thursday is disordered.

On Thursday Sehun learns a lot of things. He learns that _people are not things_. He learns that _you can't just add them into your collection like a bunch of trophies._

And maybe Sehun would also learn what people say about Jongin. _What they call you behind your back_. Maybe he would have. Had he stood in the hallway a little longer. Just like everyone learns. The entire hospital knows by now.

But he doesn't.

He, on the other hand, has seen this in the past. Families and friends not only grieve and mourn. They also get aggressive, angry, so angry things usually don't wind up too well.

"I'll have to ask you to leave, Sir," Sehun says from the doorway. His voice is calm, composed. It also doesn't leave much space for discussion."Now. Unless you want to deal with the security."

The man laughs, without any kind of amusement, running his fingers through his hair before looking Jongin's way once more. "I've seen you fuck up so many people and I stood by you anyways. Shame on me, huh? But I will tell you this, Jongin. You had it coming and if anyone in the world deserves it, it's you."

And then he's gone. As fast as as he appeared. Shoulder brushing against Sehun's own on his way out, forcefully, with so much fury it makes the corners of Sehun mouth twitch.

He fights it, though. It really isn't such a great time.

The thing with loud fights, the thing that most people don't realize, is that once the silence settles it's even worse. It offers leverage for all the words to settle in. For guilt to take over.

Sehun doesn't know what to say. He opens his mouth to try but nothing comes out. To be quite honest, there is not much he could say. This wasn't his to see, to endure.

And looking at Jongin is worse than looking anywhere else. He's like a statue. Made of marble. Still. Lifeless. Staring ahead.

Sehun's eyes dart towards the machine on his right. Jongin's heartbeat is a bit too fast. Which is quite ironic, considering he doesn't look like he has any at all.

"Are you feeling sick? Can I get you something?" Sehun offers.

Maybe not the best call.

"Get out," he whispers.

Sehun doesn't move. Mind a little blank, brows furrowed in disbelief, he wants to protest.

"Are you deaf? I said get the fuck out of my room!"

On Thursday night, Sehun does.

 

* * *

 

 

Friday morning is a little uneventful. And Sehun is, yet again, one inept intern tripping over their own feet away from _losing it._

On Friday morning Sehun comes back to see Jongin, his feet working on their own. To do what exactly, he's not quite sure but he does show up.

On Thursday night Jongin had a visitor.

On Friday morning room 123 is empty.

And so the wheel turns.

**Author's Note:**

> :O


End file.
